


we play dumb (but we know exactly what we're doing)

by theagonyofblank



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explosions, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Jemma wants to do when she grows up is to work in a lab, study microorganisms and proteins under a microscope and maybe also do some work on bioterrorism – but for the good guys, of course. What she gets instead is a blown-up pool, lectures on the proper uses of snake venom, and maybe also a crush.</p><p>(Alternate summary: Jemma’s senior year at the Shield Academy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we play dumb (but we know exactly what we're doing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackEPeace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/gifts).



> Written for JackEPeace for the AOS Holiday Exchange, who requested:
>
>> _High school AUs (of any kind. It doesn't matter. I am a sucker for high school AUs)_
> 
> I hope this fits the bill and that you enjoy it! I actually tried to incorporate a supernatural element to it (as per your second request), but you can see how well that worked out: aka not at all. Sorry! 
> 
> I mostly listened to Taylor Swift's _1989_ while writing this, which probably explains a lot about this fic. Anyway, the title is shamelessly taken from "New Romantics" from that same album.

* 

As she stares around at the rubble – there’s a hole in the ground where the pool (their Olympic-sized pool!) used to be, and she’s pretty sure her face is covered in soot and dirt and probably feces as well (most students aren’t very good at picking up after their pets), and Deputy Headmistress Hand is storming over towards them, absolutely livid – she wonders what her life would have been like had she gone to Avengers Secondary, or even Hydra High— anywhere but the SHIELD Academy is the point she’s trying to make.

(Her guess? Nothing like this.)

“Jemma.”

She blinks, focusing her gaze on where her hands are clasped tightly together with Skye’s.

“Jemma,” Skye repeats, tugging a hand free so that she can cup Jemma’s chin in her palm. There’s a ringing in her ears (probably, most likely from the explosion) and she’s not so much hearing Skye as she is reading her lips (thank you, Dr. Morse). Skye is smiling at her in this way that makes her heart flip, and there’s an earnestness there that makes it hard for Jemma to keep staring (and yet she still does).

“Jemma Simmons. Will you—”

 

 

 

 

*

**_8 months ago_ **

 

All Jemma wants to do when she grows up is to work in a lab, study microorganisms and proteins under a microscope and maybe also do some work on bioterrorism – but for the good guys, of course.

She can’t quite figure out how knowing which is the most effective poison to use on darts versus bullets, or knowing how to assemble and fire an AK-47, is going to help her in her pursuit of a Ph.D, but that doesn’t stop Mr. Hunter from lecturing on _Oxyranus microlepidotus_ venom like any one of them could be shot with it while out to the movies on a Friday night.

He’s in the middle of one such lecture when Skye decides to show up.

“Sorry, Mr. Hunter,” Skye is saying, shrugging her backpack off and sliding into the seat next to Jemma’s. “Monday blues and all that.” She makes a show of looking around the classroom, earning a few chuckles and grins from her fellow students. “Or is it just me?”

Mr. Hunter only sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t be late again,” he says, but there’s no reproach in his voice. Jemma thinks he should sound more stern, but they’re going on four years now: he knows as well as Jemma does that there’s no amount of threatening that can get Skye to show up on time if she doesn’t want to.

When his back is turned, Jemma leans in. “Where _were_ you?” She pulls her notebook and pencil case closer to her so that Skye has room on her half of the table, and watches as Skye unpacks her books and laptop. “I wanted to stop by your room after breakfast, but it was time for class and Raina said—”

“I overslept,” Skye explains with a sheepish smile.

Jemma resumes her note-taking when Mr. Hunter turns back around to address the class. She’s so preoccupied with her task that it takes her a moment to register that Skye is trying to peer over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and nudges the girl back to her side of the table, shielding her notes from prying eyes.

When Skye sends an exaggerated pout in her direction, she relents with a sigh.

“You can borrow them later.”

 

 

 

 

*

  ** _7 months ago_**

 

Lunch is a quiet affair.

Probably because Jemma has decided to spend it in the library, but it’s the only way she can get some time to herself. And more importantly, a break from the awkward, stony silence between Fitz and Mack.

(They’re both being idiots, of course – they’re always on the same wavelength, but they’ve been a little out of sync lately. Jemma’s sure it’s just a little misunderstanding; nothing that can’t be fixed by an apology. The question is just who’s going to apologize first.)

Then there’s the whole matter of Ward, who has been hanging around Fitz and Simmons lately and grills Simmons about Fitz-and-Mack any chance he gets. He gets this odd gleam of hope in his eyes every time Jemma mentions something about the boys being on the outs. Jemma would lie about it (because it’s not really any of Ward’s business – it’s not even any of _her_ business), except for the fact that she’s a terrible, awful liar and Ward would probably see through her lies and deceit in two seconds flat.

So she hides out in the stacks, her books spread out in a half-circle around her as she cross-references her texts while biting into her meal.

She’s halfway through her BLT when Skye finds her.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts out when she sees the other girl, and then immediately flushes. Talk about foot-in-mouth disease.

To her credit, Skye only looks _mildly_ offended. “You’re always here.”

It’s Jemma’s turn to be mildly offended, and she retorts without thinking, “I am _not._ ”

“You used to come in here all the time,” Skye protests. “Back in freshman year.”

Jemma blinks. “I forgot about that,” she admits, smiling. She doesn’t use the school library as often as she used to; she prefers the public library: it has a larger selection of books that covers a wider range of topics.

Skye looks strangely embarrassed, and shoves her hands into her pockets. “So, what are you doing?” She kneels down so that she can see what Jemma’s studying.

“Oh. Um. Nothing important.” She kind of wants to talk to Skye about Fitz and Mack, because Skye’s also their friend and possibly the only person who’d understand how awkward it is to be caught between the both of them, but Jemma doesn’t know what she’d say. And she really shouldn’t be engaging in something as petty as gossip, anyway. So she focuses her gaze on the books in front of her. “Just research what material would properly replicate cartilage.”

“Right. Ah—I’ll just—leave you to that, then.”

“What?” Jemma replays the conversation in her head, and tugs Skye back down before she can… abscond. “No,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean— I’ll stop talking about cartilage if you stay,” she promises.

“You sure?” Skye asks dubiously. “I don’t mind leaving you with your cartilage.”

“Yes,” Jemma says firmly, shutting one of her books to prove her point. “I’m sure.”

Skye smiles at her, their shoulders bumping when she slides back down to join Jemma on the floor.

“For the record?” she starts while Jemma packs her things away. “I don’t mind when you talk science at me.” And then Skye _winks_ at her.

Jemma stares for a minute longer than necessary, feels her stomach drop without her permission and her face heat up, and all she can think is:

_Oh._

_Oh, **no.**_

 

 

 

 

*

**_6 months ago_ **

 

As a general rule, Jemma likes to avoid crushing on her best friends.

There was one week in the ninth grade where she fancied Fitz. Or maybe she only _thought_ she fancied Fitz – she couldn’t really tell if her feelings were truly hers or merely the expectation that she should have them. (They were practically best friends, and they understood each other like no one else did – didn’t all the storybooks say that was how it was supposed to happen?)

Anyway, at this point, Fitz was already too enamored with Mack to notice her odd behaviour, and it was probably a blessing in disguise.

Because crushing on your best friends? Is generally considered a huge party foul.

 

 

 

 

*

**_5 months ago_ **

 

Jemma’s out sick for a whole week.

The first day, Skye drops by after dinner with some soup.

“I heard you were sick,” she says by way of explanation, holding up the cup of chicken noodle soup in one hand. “Sick people like soup, right?”

Skye looks so earnest that Jemma doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Fitz stopped by earlier with some dinner for her. Instead, she tries to get Skye to tell her about their assignments from Mr. Hunter and Dr. Morse, since those are classes she shares with Skye.

But Skye frowns at her and refuses to talk until Jemma has finished her soup, so Jemma grudgingly spoons some into her mouth.

“I said all of it,” Skye repeats, folding her arms across her chest.

Jemma sighs. “But Skye—”

“I promise we can talk about our homework for as long as you want after that.”

 

 

*

Skye comes over to visit her the rest of the week to give her soup – and her homework, but Skye assures her the latter is secondary.

Jemma believes her, but only because Skye never looks very enthused to talk about homework, and Jemma’s always the one who has to bring it up.

She tries not to read too much into it – Fitz has brought her lunch _and_ dinner every single day she’s been sick, and she doesn’t overanalyze that. Besides, like Fitz, Skye doesn’t harbour any romantic feelings for Jemma. She’s just being a good friend.

On Friday afternoon, Skye comes bearing chocolates.

“What’s that?” Jemma asks, sitting up in bed.

“Hazelnut dark chocolate,” Skye answers, holding it out for Jemma to see. “It’s for you. When you feel better.”

“Oh.” Jemma’s starting to think she feels better already.

“Mr. Hunter assigned us our senior project,” she confesses a minute later, and Jemma’s attention is piqued.

The senior project makes up a large part of their grade. The way the project is set up, there are two different sides: Side A and Side B. Last year, Side A students were tasked to create a poison. Side B students then had the job of creating the antidote.

Jemma can’t decide if it’d be more fun to be on the team that creates the poison or the antidote: there’s something to be learned in both. The important thing, she supposes, is to make sure that her team comes out on top.

“And I thought maybe some chocolate would make you feel better,” Skye continues. “But I guess you like projects, so maybe I shouldn’t have gotten you that—”

Jemma clutches the chocolate closer to her unconsciously, and Skye laughs.

“—I wasn’t going to take it back, you know.”

“R-right, of course not,” she stammers out, cheeks pink.

Thankfully, Skye doesn’t dwell on it. “Anyway,” the other girl is saying, pulling a folder out of her backpack and handing it to Jemma. “This is your copy. We’re going to have to build that.”

Jemma flips open the folder and skims the information contained in it. “An EMP generator?”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Skye grins back at her.

Not quite the words Jemma would use – but she doesn’t dictate the lesson plan.

“Do you know what the counter-project is?” Jemma asks.

Skye only shrugs in response.

Whatever it is, Jemma already knows that no matter what, she and Skye are going to win.

 

 

 

 

*

**_4 months ago_ **

 

On the first week of December, Mr. Hunter reveals that the counter-project is an electronically-triggered bomb. Which technically means that her and Skye’s project is the counter-project, but that’s not so important in the grand scheme of things.

“Hey,” Skye says when Mr. Hunter is turned away, distractingly close. “Think the bomb’s gonna be a real bomb?”

Jemma wouldn’t put it past the school. But what she says is: “I’m sure Mr. Hunter will have the students use something else instead of TNT.”

Skye looks at her doubtfully.

“You don’t actually think they’ll take a chance on the students blowing up the school,” Jemma adds, though she’s frowning now.

“At least we wouldn’t have classes to go to.”

Jemma sends her what she hopes is a withering look, but the way Skye smiles back makes Jemma think she needs to work on that.

 

 

 

 

*

**_3 months ago_ **

 

The Christmas holidays come and go, and before she knows it, Jemma’s back at school.

Skye greets her by slinging an arm around her shoulder in a half-hug, and Jemma’s embarrassed by the way her cheeks flame at the simple gesture.

It’s not like they haven’t been texting constantly throughout the break, but it’s nice to see Skye in person again.

“We’re going for a movie on Friday,” Skye tells her. “Wanna join us?”

Jemma smiles. “Yes. I’d love to.”

 

 

*

She probably should have asked who was going to the movies before agreeing to go, because it turns out they’re going with Fitz and Mack, who have long since made up. It’s only awkward now because it sort of feels like a double date, especially when Skye buys her a sprite and a medium popcorn (the latter to share) and refuses to let her pay.

The movie is some sort of horror film that has Jemma clutching the armrest tightly. When Skye offers her a supportive hand, Jemma squeezes it so tightly that there’s no way she’s _not_ cut off her circulation. But Skye doesn’t say anything and keeps her eyes glued to the screen the whole time.

The evening’s going well enough that she wonders if someone will come up behind them and shoot them with _Oxyranus microlepidotus_ venom, but a quick glance around the theater assures her that no one of Mr. Hunter’s build is sitting right behind them. And she remembers the antitoxin, so if they get back to the school in time—

“You have a really strong grip,” Skye whispers, breaking into her reverie.

“Oh,” Jemma says, and she knows she’s blushing again. It happens so often around Skye that she’s just resigned herself to it. At least it’s still dark in the theater, so the chances of Skye having seen it this time are pretty low. “Sorry.”

Skye sends her a lopsided grin. “It’s okay.”

She wriggles her fingers in Jemma’s hand, and Jemma relaxes her grip.

“Thanks. Just give me five minutes, and you can squeeze my hand—”

“Keep it down, you two,” Fitz interrupts from the other side of Skye, leaning forward so he can send a dirty look at the both of them.

Jemma knows without looking at Skye that the other girl is rolling her eyes, though she gives Jemma’s hand a little squeeze as she settles back to watch the screen just in time to see one of the main characters start running for his life.

 

 

*

At the end of the night, Skye walks her to her room and lingers in the doorway.

“So, uh.”

Jemma looks at her expectantly.

“Remind me never to take you to a horror movie again.”

“I can sit next to Fitz next time,” Jemma offers kindly. Fitz is used to her being a scaredy cat, though he’s also never offered her his hand to hold.

“No way,” Skye declares. “I mean, if you’re talking about your death grip, I actually wanted to get some pointers from you about that—”

“What exactly are you planning to do with your new and improved grip?”

“What _wouldn’t_ I do?”

Jemma sighs. (Though it should be noted that she sighs _fondly._ )

Skye grins at her, then straightens against the doorframe. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” They have a lot of work to do on their project, and Jemma is nothing if not serious about beating the other team.

Skye seems to hesitate for another second, but then before Jemma can think anything about it, she’s turning away and heading down the hall to her own room.

“Good night, Skye,” Jemma calls out after her.

Skye turns and raises one of her hands in a wave goodbye. “Night, Simmons.”

 

 

 

 

* 

**_2 months ago_ **

 

The school is decorated in pinks and reds, and although much of what is known about the history of Valentine’s Day is more legend than fact, it doesn’t mean that Jemma doesn’t find it festive.

Skye finds her at lunch, sliding in the seat next to hers. “Man, that line is crazy. You’d think the fact that they were selling tickets all month means that the line would be, you know, _not long._ And also, who sells tickets this early?”

“Does this mean you were actually in line for a ticket to prom?” Mack’s eyebrows jump skyward.

This is news to Jemma too, because Skye has always waited till the last minute to buy her prom tickets. Most years, she just waits until someone else buys them for her.

Skye sticks her tongue out at him. “Someone has to keep an eye on you and Fitz.”

“What about you, Jemma?”

Jemma, trying not to look too interested in this particular conversational thread, looks up from her salad. “What do you mean?”

“Do you have to keep an eye on me and Fitz too?”

“I’m sure Skye doesn’t mind the company,” Jemma says, because the four of them have always gone to prom together. Even when they’ve had dates.

“We can chaperone together,” Skye adds, nudging Jemma gently in the side. “I need all the help I can get to deal with you two.”

Mack rolls his eyes. “‘Chaperone,’ huh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

Jemma flushes, and Skye laughs.

“Don’t be a jerk, Mack,” Skye says, though it’s without any bite.

“All right,” Mack says placatingly anyway, holding up his hands.

“Seriously, though,” Skye starts, spooning some pudding into her mouth. “Can we talk about why they sell tickets for a prom that’s only gonna happen in April right now?”

 

 

 

 

*

**_1 month ago_**

 

They find out in the middle of the week, during one of Mr. Hunter’s classes, that their counter team consists of no other than Fitz and Mack.

“We have to start from scratch,” Jemma tells Skye at eleven in the evening, the day before their presentation on their project status. She’s not the type to lose her marbles over academics this easily, but it’s late and it’s been a stressful few weeks leading up to the conclusion of the project and she may or may not be unraveling a little.

“Whoa,” Skye says, rubbing at her eyes when she looks up from her computer, where she’s working on the Powerpoint on Jemma’s bed. Her lips are pursed, though the tone she takes with Jemma is not unkind. “Let’s not resort to extreme measures.”

“This is not extreme,” Jemma replies with a frown, tapping her pencil on her desk. “This is Fitz and Mack.”

Skye shrugs. “So Fitz is a better engineer. So what?”

Jemma can think of a million answers to that, but she knows Skye’s posing a rhetorical question. So she lets her elaborate.

“At least it’ll be a challenge. And we’re supposed to be having fun with this project. Where’s the fun in a guaranteed win?”

 

 

 

 

* 

**_Present Day_ **

 

A guaranteed win would probably have been preferable to blowing up half the school.

She’s sure Headmaster Coulson – and Deputy Headmistress Hand – would agree. Then again, there’s a rumour going around that the school grounds were going to undergo a makeover during the summer. It’s possible that Jemma and Skye – and really, Fitz and Mack as well – have done the school a favour.

Maybe this means they won’t be expelled. Maybe this means they won’t have failed their senior project. Maybe this means they can still graduate.

She has places to be, Ph.D.s to pursue—

—but those thoughts don’t stand a chance against Skye, who still has one hand under her chin and is moving the other to stroke the side of Jemma’s face, bringing her attention back onto the woman in front of her.

“Jemma Simmons.”

Jemma feels her heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing again.

“Will you go to prom with me?”

It’s almost to be expected at this point – Jemma should’ve expected this, at least, but she finds that she’s completely floored, and can’t find the words to formulate a proper reply.

“Um. Jemma?” Skye prompts, hesitant.

Jemma clears her throat. “I—I’m already going to prom with you.”

There’s another moment of pause. “I mean, as my date.” Her voice is quiet, low, only for Jemma to hear. Skye looks down at the ground, then returns her gaze back to Jemma’s face – almost shy.

In the four years she’s known Skye, Jemma has never seen the other girl like this. It tugs at her heart strings a little and brings a shy smile of her own to her face. “I would like that very much.”

The smile Skye sends her is so bright, it warms Jemma from the inside out. And before she knows it, Skye’s lips are crashing into hers, the hands at her face moving to cradle the back of her neck and pull her in.

It takes Deputy Headmistress Hand and Mr. Hunter a good five minutes – at _least_ – to separate them, and even when they’re marched up to Headmaster Coulson’s office, Jemma can’t quite keep the large grin off her face.

 

 

 

 

*

**_1 week later_ **

 

They’ve only been dating a week, but Jemma finds out that crushing on your best friend – and consequently dating said best friend – can be a pretty great thing.

Many things stay the same: Fitz and Mack still give them a hard time, there’s still a crater where the pool used to be (okay, admittedly, _that_ is sort of a new development), and Skye still finds Jemma at lunch—

But there are subtle differences, too: There’s a very obvious undertone to almost every conversation with her two other best friends (which only makes her want to sigh and roll her eyes), yes, the crater’s _still_ there, but sometimes students race each other to the bottom of the pit (against the Deputy Headmistress’ instruction), and Skye holds her hand under the table.

What Jemma likes best, however, is the way that – instead of coming over to her room at the end of the day and talking about homework, or whether or not Mr. Hunter and Dr. Morse are out to get each other, or… homework – Skye will push Jemma against the bed and kiss her until one of them has to come up for air.

And as far as an end to her senior year goes, she can’t think of a better one.

 

 

 

 

*


End file.
